An unfamiliar feeling of guilt clenches my gut.
“Dad, I—I didn’t know you felt that way.”
“It’s alright,” he says, resorting back to the man of few words I know so well. “Want to come over for dinner?”
“I’m actually in the middle of something.” I pause. “I’m fixing to propose to Hadley.”
“Good for you, son,” he says as if he knew this would happen all along. “Do you have your mother’s ring?”
I swallow. “Yes.”
“Alright, well, I’ll let you go. Good luck.” And with that, he clicks off.
A weight lifts from my chest, one that I didn’t realize was there.Dad’s always been proud of me. He just wanted me to be happy in my career.With a new sense of determination, I work twice as fast to set up.
My heart still hasn’t quit racing, and I’m kind of wondering if I should see a doctor. My hands grow clammy, which results in me dropping items like the Nerf gun and lollipops over and over again. But at last, I finish everything I needed to do, thankful that I took one last stop on my way home to get what I needed, and shoot Lorelai a text.
Me:Bring the woman over. I’m ready.
Lorelai and Lucy live a little further away from Hadley than I do, so the staring at the clock thing I’ve been doing makes the minutes drag on slower than I think is scientifically possible. It’s during this time that doubt creeps in.
Not for one second do I doubt that Hadley and I belong together, but I do doubt the eventual workings of our future. What if she never surrenders to Jesus like me? Will she want to keep our kids from church? Is the fact that she’s not a Christian going to cause a lot of disunity? Every question is valid, and I know exactly what everyone says: “Do not be unequally yoked.” It’s in Scripture for a reason. I don’t know how to reconcile that verse with my love for Hadley.
She’s kind, considerate, and full of love. She’s the woman who holds the door for elderly people and will cook a meal for a sick community member. She’s always serving and loving others through her career and personal life. Sure, she’s made her fair share of mistakes…but who hasn’t?
And maybe that’s the problem…she doesn’t see herself the way I see her.
The turning of the door knob brings me back to reality. The door opens, then quietly clicks shut, as if she is trying to make as little noise as possible. Her quiet footsteps tell me she’s headed down the hallway.
Game on,I smirk, gripping my Nerf gun assault rifle from my position in the guest bathroom. She’ll never make it back to this room in the dark.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Hadley
Idon’tknowwhatBraxton’s getting at here, but he knows I can’t resist a challenge. Now I see why Lucy brought me to her and Lorelei’s house instead of home. And why Lorelei was so persistent in getting me home tonight. She dropped me off without so much as an explanation as to why there were lollipops sticking out of my grass, lining my walkway. The moment I was out of her car, she zoomed off with a wave. Without a doubt, this has something to do with Braxton.
When I make it to the door, I notice a note taped to it, directly at my eye level. It’s in Braxton’s signature scrawl, though I can tell he tried to write bigger than usual.
The note read:
Braxton’s Day begins now (yes, I’m aware it’s 6 pm, but I couldn’t wait). Also, I’m aware we never finished fighting for it back at the wedding, but let’s be honest, I would have won anyways. This Nerf gun is yours. Others are stationed throughout the house and backyard, along with ammo.
May the best shot win.
P.S. no lights allowed!!
My heart swells. If nothing else, this note and little game he planned proves he still wants me in his life. At least as a friend. If I can’t have him as my boyfriend, then he HAS to remain my friend. He’s the very air I breathe, and it took me ruining it all to finally figure it out. From now on, if Braxton wants to help me, I’m letting him. He has always respected my independence, and it was foolish of me to think he wasn’t because he was looking out for my best interest.
After tying my hair into a bun using the ponytail holder around my wrist, I pick up the gun he left for me and turn it in my hands. It’s a little one-shot pistol style thing. I chuckle to myself. The man isn’t playing fair. He’s probably got a bazooka or something in there. Do they make bazooka Nerf weapons?
As stealthily as possible, I turn the knob to the front door and let myself into the pitch black house. Did he really cover the windows? I touch the fabric over the window by the door, feeling the rough texture of black tarp. When and where did he get this from? I shake my head, knowing this is going to end in one epic failure for me.
I close the door, quiet as a mouse, and feel my way down the hall with my braced hand, the Nerf pistol cocked and loaded in the other. The plan is to hide out in the guest bathroom since it is at the far end of the house and is a prime location to make sure he doesn’t sneak up behind me.
My heart pounds in time with my footsteps as I near the bathroom. I reach out with my braced hand expecting to have to push the door open, but to my surprise, my hand falls through the air. With my pistol out, I take a step into the small room and shuffle quietly toward the shower. I lift my foot to step in, but instead of my foot landing on the other side of the tub, it lands on top of the shower curtain, and I fall straight on top of a body, taking the curtain with me.
My mind reels. Ineverclose the shower curtains after a shower. When a guest is finished in this bathroom, I always make sure the curtain is open.
